Where the Rules Don't Apply
by Flash Foreward
Summary: It was just another hunt, another city, but this city is different and Dean and Sam aren't quite prepared for just how different. This is Dean Winchester's account of the days he and his family spent in Eerie, Indiana.
1. Notes

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Supernatural" or "Eerie, Indiana"  
**A/N:** This is my first big attempt at a Supernatural fic, so I apologize in advance for any glaring OOCness or errors and humbly ask that, if you catch any, that you kindly point them out in your reviews so I can edit them.

**Where the Rules Don't Apply**

**_This Journal is the Property of:  
Dean Winchester_**

**Notes:**

To any hunters who find this: this is a warning. Stay away from Eerie, Indiana. It's under control.

To Marshall, Simon, and even Dash: I hope you're prepared for what's coming next, 'cause Sam and I sure ain't.


	2. Day One

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Supernatural" or "Eerie, Indiana"  
**A/N:** This story is set after the episode "Hole in the Head Gang" of Eerie, Indiana and is AU from that point on.

**Where the Rules Don't Apply**

**Day One**

Sam was sulking in the back seat. Sam had been sulking a lot lately. I dunno why, it's not like our lives had changed drastically recently, it was just the same old story: new hunt, new city. I guess that could be why he was sulking, I think he liked Tulsa and didn't want to leave. I don't see why, Tulsa was just like all the other places we've been. The only thing exciting anywhere is hunting, so I didn't see what Sammy's problem was.

I watched him in the side-view mirror, and I know Dad was glancing at him in the rearview mirror, too, but he just sat oblivious with his arms crossed over his chest watching the flat, Indiana landscape fly by.

The kid was determined, I'll give him that.

I turned my attention back to the road ahead, wondering what the next town would be like. Dad said small, so hopefully that meant this would be a quick hunt. I wondered what we were hunting, but I knew dad wouldn't tell me, even if I asked. I was too young to _actually_ hunt. I had to stay behind and keep Sammy safe.

I hated it.

Sam was nine, he should have been able to keep himself safe by now.

"Almost there, boys," Dad announced. He turned off the radio, cutting off _Wild America_ right at the chorus. I was gonna glare at him, but then I sign caught my eye. It read: Eerie, Indiana. Pop: 16,661.

"That's ominous," I said, eyeing the numbers.

Sam snorted and I whipped my head around, glaring back at him. I wasn't in the mood for his shit. He just shook his head and said, "It's just a number, Dean."

"Yeah, the number of the _beast_," I said. I couldn't believe he was being so thick.

"Actually, it's not, it's sixteen thousand six hundred and sixty one."

"Well, it…it _has_ the number of the beast in it," I retorted.

"Boys!" Dad interjected before Sammy could make some clever retort (he stuck his tongue out at me instead). "Dean, face forward. Sam, don't tease your brother."

"I wasn't teasing," Sam cried indignantly. "I was correcting his assumption."

Dad didn't respond, and I turned and sat forward, slouching down in my seat with my arms crossed over my chest as I glared out the windshield. It was my turn to sulk. I hated when Sam did that. He talked down to me just because I didn't know as much school stuff as he did and he used those big words 'cause he thought I wouldn't understand (I looked them up, so the joke's on him!). I hated that he acted all superior just because he could get good grades even with all the school-hopping.

Well, I was gonna be a better hunter than him, so he could stuff it!

I turned my head to glare out the window, wondering when we would reach the motel. As if reading my mind, the car began to slow and Dad pulled into the parking lot of something called "The Eerie Inn". It was a tall, imposing, pink house, and I immediately hated it.

Hunters did not stay in pink houses, thank you very much.

"We're staying in an inn?" Sammy asked incredulously. "That's so…_normal_."

"It's what there is," Dad said, turning the car off. "Everybody out."

We piled out of the car, got our stuff from the trunk, and headed for the building. I tried to look everywhere but at the gaudy pink house, and it's a good thing I did. I was glancing over my shoulder on the way in when I caught sight of two kids on bikes watching us from across the street. I knew they were watching 'cause they took of the minute I saw them.

I waited a few seconds to see if they'd come back or try to look from somewhere else, but I didn't see them, so I just turned and followed Sam inside. The lobby wasn't much better than the outside, with poufy pink chairs and throw pillows to match, and the old woman behind the desk looked like she'd sat so long on one of those chairs that she'd taken on its coloring.

It was more than a little unnerving.

Dad checked us in, carefully answering the prying questions the lady in pink (Mrs. Prister) was asking, then we went up to the room (second floor, one window). Dad gave us the usual speech (be good, stay safe, stick together, don't go out after dark. And, Dean, Take care of Sammy) and then he was gone. Off to hunt, leaving me and Sam alone in a dinky hotel room with a tiny TV.

Sam was already sprawled on one of the beds with one of his books – something thick and totally not suitable for a nine year old, probably – so I flopped down on the other bed and decided to channel surf. I grabbed the remote from the bedside table, flicked on the TV, and discovered that The Eerie Inn got one channel and it consisted of a scary looking guy with no hair and thick-ass glasses reading off the list of events the Eerie Inn would be hosting for its guests.

I turned the TV off very quickly.

"I hate small towns," I announced, laying back on the bed, my hands hooked behind my head.

"They hate you," Sam mumbled.

I knew he wasn't really listening, just talking so I wouldn't try to pester him. It was a trick he'd developed a long time ago, long enough ago that I'd caught on and it no longer worked. He, however, still hadn't figured that out. I grinned up at the ceiling. I could use this to my advantage.

I sighed heavily, loudly, watching Sammy as best I could out of the corner of my eye. He didn't look up from his book, just turned the page and kept reading. I coughed and rolled onto my side, staring at my brother. "Sam," I said quietly, so quietly he probably didn't hear. Then I kept going, saying his name louder every time. "Sam. Sam. Sam. Sammy!"

He looked up. "What do you want, Dean? I'm trying to read!" he flashed the cover of the book at me (something stupid and boring about normal, every day lives of boring people, from what I could tell), then tried to go back to reading.

"Wanna go exploring?" I asked. I would've just gone on my own, but if I went anywhere without Sammy and Dad found out there'd be hell to pay. And Dad would find out because as much as Sam hated having to be baby-sat, he liked getting me in trouble even more.

"No," Sam said simply, his eyes skimming quickly over the words on the page.

"I think I saw a library book sale on the way through town," I tried.

"You didn't see squat," Sam countered. "We drove down back roads and the library would've been on Main Street."

"Whatever," I mumbled, sliding off the bed. "This place is boring, I'm gonna go look around."

"I'm staying here."

"Of course you are." I shook my head as I pulled on my coat and headed out the door. I pounded down the stairs, ignoring the glare Mrs. Prister gave me when I slammed open the door at the bottom and left it ajar as I jogged out into the cool, Eerie air.

Now that I think about it, I remember that it even _smelled_ weird there. If I'd been thinking then, I probably would've noted it, but I was too pissed off at Sammy. I didn't get him. He hated all the things I loved, all the things we'd been raised with, and it just didn't make sense to me. I didn't see what was so interesting about reading or school work. Hunting was _exciting_ (and had the added bonus of saving people's lives), what book could possibly measure up?

I tried to push Sammy from my mind as I headed down the road. I went the way I'd seen those kids go before. Not consciously, I wasn't thinking about them at the time, I just figured it was the way to whatever 'downtown' Eerie happened to brag, since we'd driven in from the other direction and, as Sam had said, we'd taken back roads.

I didn't have far to walk. After only a few minutes, I caught site of store fronts and shops (including the Library, which apparently was having a book sale). I looked around me, taking in the meager entertainment this small town had to offer, and I found myself staring at something called "The World O'Stuff". From the look of it, it was a convenience store to top all other convenience stores ever made. If the window displays and what little of the inside I could see from my spot across the street were to be believed, it had _everything_.

I crossed the street and ducked inside.

It did, indeed, have everything. There were shelves everywhere stocked full of stuff I didn't even know anyone would ever need, and there were video games and ice cream and people everywhere. The place sold everything from shoes to slide rules. I considered getting a pair of shoes for me and a slide rule for Sammy, but as I was perusing the stock of shoes, I caught sight of two things that made me freeze: the two kids I'd seen earlier and my Dad.

The kids were sitting at the counter across the store, drinking milkshakes and not-so-discreetly watching Dad, who was leaning against the counter talking to a man who could only be the owner of the store. I was about to run out when Dad shifted position, turning so that now he could see the door.

"Shit," I muttered, ducking down behind the shelf. I couldn't believe this, though I guess I should've expected it. Small town, one business street, it only made sense that Dad would stop in here to interview people.

I watched Dad carefully while pretending to still be looking at shoes, praying he would just leave. Right when it looked like he was about to, someone came up behind me and cleared his throat. I turned around and had to look down to find a kid with a shock of white hair, a black trench coat, and a very angry look on his face.

"Uh, hi," I said, feeling stupid already.

"This is my store," he said.

"Excuse me?"

He shoved me back and I knocked into the shelf behind me, sending up a clang everyone in the store must have heard, including Dad. The kid stepped up close to me, glaring up at me, and said "lift your shit somewhere else," in a low growl, then he ducked his head, shoved his hands in his pockets, and disappeared out the door.

I stared after him, even though I knew I should've been getting the hell out, too. The kids from the counter were looking at me, and I think they would've come over to talk to me except Dad was right beside me, glaring down at me. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out the door, dragging me a few blocks before pulling to a stop and turning me to face him.

"What the hell are you doing, Dean?" he asked. "Where's Sam?"

"He wanted to read and I was bored," I said with a shrug.

"There's a TV in the room."

"It gets _one channel_," I retorted, knowing I sounded more like a petulant child than the 'grown up' thirteen year-old I wanted Dad to think I was. At the time, however, I didn't really care. "And it's not even a real channel!"

"I don't care, Dean," Dad said. "You don't leave your brother alone. You know that. Get back to the Inn. If you go _anywhere_, Sam goes with you."

"Fine." I turned sharply on my heel and stormed away. When I figure Dad couldn't see me anymore, I slowed my pace and lightened my footsteps. Temper tantrums were all well and good, but they didn't do much when your parent wasn't around to see them. So, I walked slowly (but purposefully) back to the Inn, taking in the not-so-many sights of Eerie as I went.

I wished Dad had found a job in a big city again, at least there I'd be less likely to get bored. There would've been more TV channels for one thing, and more places to convince Sam to go so we could get out of the motel room for another.

As I was nearing the Inn, I heard a scuffle behind me. I turned quickly and found the two kids from earlier. One was taller with chin-length brown hair and a big, green coat. He looked about my age. The other was short with curly, reddish-brown hair and clothes that looked ratty and far too big for him. He looked about Sam's age. They didn't have their bikes this time.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"We want to know why you're here," the older kid said, crossing his arms over his chest.

I shrugged. "Business," I said. "But we'll be gone soon." I hoped.

"What _kind_ of business?" the younger kid asked, mimicking his friend's stance.

I rolled my eyes. "Why do you care?" I asked, debating just knocking them out and bolting for the Inn.

"Because we think we know," the older kid said. "We think you're here about the weirdness."

"What?" I asked, all thought of getting away squashed by my confusion. "Weirdness?"

"Eerie is the center of weirdness for the entire planet," he explained. "At least, we think it is. We're trying to prove it, but no one else seems to see it. But the questions your dad was asking, you guys know."

"Weirdness?" I repeated. The kid nodded. "You mean the Supernatural?"

"No," the younger kid said. "We mean weirdness."

"There's supernatural stuff, too," the older kid added. "But that's not all there is. I mean, we've had ghosts and stuff, but also talking dogs."

I stared. "You're crazy," I said, shaking my head. "I'm just gonna go now."

"If you want to know more about Eerie, meet us at the cemetery tomorrow morning," the older kid said before I could turn away. "Meet us at Devon Wilde's grave."

"You sure about that, Mars?" the younger kid asked, looking up at his friend. "Why not old man Kinkle?"

The older kid (Mars? What kind of a name was 'Mars'?) shook his head. "I gotta take some flowers to Devon for Melanie anyway, Simon," he said. "This way we can kill two birds with one stone."

"I hate that phrase," Simon said with a shudder.

Mars turned his attention back to me and I realized I'd been staring at them. I couldn't help it, everything they were saying was so bizarre. Talking about 'weirdness' and ghosts as if they were an every day thing. Which, as I knew, they were, but other people weren't supposed to, not unless they were hunters, too, but these kids couldn't be hunters. They were too young.

"All right," I said as I realized Mars was waiting for my answer, my curiosity getting the better of me. "But I have bring my brother."

"That's fine," Mars said, nodding. "We'll see you at ten in the cemetery."

"All right."

They watched me for a few more seconds, then turned and walked away. I watched them go, wondering what I'd just signed myself up for. I doubted it was anything good. Just as long as I didn't run into that gray haired kid again I figured I'd be good.

I went to the Inn and up to the room, collapsing on the bed. Sam was still reading. "We're going to the cemetery tomorrow at ten," I said.

"In the morning, I hope," Sam replied dryly. I didn't dignify him with a response. "Why?" he finally asked after a few minutes' silence.

"Because this town is weird," I replied, rolling onto my side. It was early still, but all I wanted to do was sleep until it was time to leave Eerie, Indiana and take our business somewhere else.


	3. Day Two

**Day Two**

Going to sleep early in the evening is never a really good idea, but it's an even worse idea when you have to go meet two kids who you don't even know in a cemetery in a town you've only just arrived in the next day. I discovered this when I woke up at two in the morning the day after we got to Eerie. Sam was still asleep, his book clutched to his chest, and Dad was out. He probably hadn't even come back last night. He usually didn't.

This left me to sit alone in the dark with thoughts I really didn't feel like thinking. I thought about waking Sam up, just to have something to do, but I knew he'd just wine to Dad later, so I left it. I got up and wandered around the room a bit. I considered taking a shower, but I didn't really want to be up yet, so I wound up just climbing back into bed.

I pulled a comic book from under my pillow and flipped on the light on the table beside the bed. Sam stirred and rolled over, wining in his sleep. I stuck my tongue out at his back, then turned my attention to the comic, ready to read about Batman saving the day again.

But I couldn't concentrate. I read the words and looked at the pictures, but they didn't sink in. My mind was too busy dwelling on the day before. It was bizarre, even by my standards, but it wasn't Mars and Simon and their "center of weirdness" crap that was bothering me, it was that white haired kid from the World O'Stuff. He was so _angry_ about the stupidest thing. Who gets pissed off about someone shoplifting when they're shoplifting, too?

Not that I shoplift. Er, well, not that I was shoplifting at that point. But that's really not important.

I tried to remember everything I could about the kid. He hadn't looked old, maybe even close to my age, and he wasn't albino, but his hair was white like an old guy's. I closed my eyes, trying to remember more, thinking back to his trench coat and his ratty clothes and his combat boots, and then it came to me. There were symbols on his hands. A plus and a minus, like a magnet or a battery.

I opened my eyes and stared across the room at the one window, fighting a laugh that I knew would wake Sam up. Eventually it pressed out, turning into a weird, strangled cough as I tried to keep quiet. I couldn't help it. Who the hell got a plus and a minus tattooed on their hands?

* * *

I woke Sammy up at nine so he could shower. He kept grumbling and complaining and muttering something about this being crazy and me being an idiot, but he showered and got dressed and was ready to go at quarter to ten.

I led the way downstairs, wondering where exactly the cemetery was. Lucky for us, Mrs. Prister was at the front desk. I walked up to her, not missing the smile she flashed at Sammy before turning her frown on me.

"Can I help you, young man?" she asked in that condescending voice grown ups always used with me.

"Yeah, can you tell me how to get to the cemetery?" I asked.

Mrs. Prister looked over her glasses at me with that distrustful look I was used to getting from adults. For some reason they never looked at Sammy like that. He doesn't look like trouble, apparently. Shows what grown ups know.

"And why do you want to know that, young man?" Mrs. Prister asked, glaring down at me.

I shrugged. "We have some relatives buried there," I said, the lie rolling off my tongue easily. "We want to see their graves, pay our respects." Mrs. Prister 'Mmmhmmed' like the best of them, but she gave us directions and Sam and I were out the door. I led the way down the road, glancing back every once in awhile to make sure Sammy was still with me. I didn't need him running off and getting me into even more trouble than I probably already was – or would be, if Dad ever found out about our little excursion.

When we got to the cemetery, Mars and Simon were at the specified gravestone. They'd obviously brought flowers for whoever Devon Wilde was – pansies, from the look of it, the purples and yellows bright against the dirt they were planted in – and were waiting for us.

"You're late," Mars said, glancing at his watch.

I shrugged. "Sorry, we didn't know the way. Had to ask." Sammy had opened his book and was flipping through to the page he left off on. I elbowed him sharply and he glared at me, but he snapped the book shut and paid attention. "What is this about?" I asked.

"We want to tell you about the weirdness," Simon said, leaning against the large tree that loomed over Devon's grave. "We think you'll understand."

"What makes you think that?" Sam asked, and I remembered I hadn't told him about my run in with Mars and Simon the night before.

"Your Dad's looking for the same thing we are," Mars replied patiently. "So we figured you might know something."

"Yeah," Simon said. "And you might be able to help."

"Why'd we have to meet in a cemetery?" Sam asked, shivering slightly. I rolled my eyes, but said nothing. I was kind of curious about that myself.

"Because this grave is part of the weirdness," Mars answered. "But before we start, we want to know who you are."

"I'm Dean, this is Sam," I said.

"Last names, too."

"What?"

"Like, 'Hi, I'm Marshall Teller and this is Simon Holmes'," Mars said, obviously impatient. "We want your last names, too."

"Urkel," I said, growing impatient myself. "Look, you can either get on with this or you can leave us alone. Pick one." I had to fight my curiosity as a spoke, but there was no way I was giving my last name to these kids. I just hoped Sam didn't decide to do something stupid.

Marshall crossed his arms over his chest and eyed me. "I'm not telling you anything until you tell me your last name."

"Why the hell do you care?" I asked just as Sam said "Winchester." I could've smacked the kid, but instead I just clenched my fists at my side and glared at him. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and innocent, and shrugged. "What?" he asked.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"They're kids, Dean," Sam said, gesturing to Simon and Marshall. "They're our ages, they can't hurt us."

"You don't know that, Sammy!" I snapped, but it was too late anyway.

"Winchester," Marshall mused. "Like the gun."

Simon shuddered at the word and I rolled my eyes, but I said nothing. It was their turn to talk, after all. They were, however, silent for far too long, in my opinion, and after a few minutes of just standing and staring at each other I cleared my throat impatiently.

"What were you going to tell us?" I asked when all Marshall did was settle his gaze more obviously on me.

He waited a moment, then spoke. Finally. "I've been battling the forces of weirdness in this town since I moved here," he said. "Everything from Tupperware that can keep you young to heart transplants that change your personality." Here, he gestured at the grave, then shook his head. "You guys obviously understand weirdness, otherwise your dad wouldn't even know about whatever's messing with Eerie this time. So we want your help."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Huh?"

"What's messing with Eerie?"

"We don't know," Simon said. "But we think it's a Vampire."

I laughed. "There's no such thing as Vampires," I said when Marshall and Simon looked at me funny. "Trust me, if there were, our dad would know about 'em, but even _he_ says they don't exist."

"Then how do you explain this," Simon reached into a bag that had been sitting behind him and pulled out what looked like a dead rabbit. He held it out to us, bending its head so Sam and I could better see the neck. There were two puncture holes without even a drop of dried blood around them.

"That's easy," Sam said immediately, "it was a snake."

"There's no poison," Marshall said, shaking his head, speaking while Simon put away the rabbit. "We had Mr. Radford check. Plus, if it were a snake, it would've just eaten the whole rabbit, not drained it of blood."

I glanced at Sammy and he shrugged. I shook my head. "Whatever," I said, turning away. "You guys have fun chasing ghost stories."

"If you want to find out if it's real, meet us here at midnight tonight," Marshall called out. I just kept walking, and I could hear Sammy hurrying to keep up with me.

These kids were crazy.

* * *

"Are we going tonight?" Sam asked, looking up from his Chinese food.

I shrugged, opening my fortune cookie. "I probably won't," I said, reading over the fortune. "You can do what you want."

"What's yours?" Sam asked.

"'You will believe,'" I read, then shook my head, tossing it aside. "Just a stupid fortune," I said. "Yours?"

"'Your way won't always work,'" Sam read out, then shrugged. "That's pretty true in most cases," he said, setting the paper next to his plate. "If I go, you promise you won't tell dad?"

"You can't really believe there's vampires here, Sammy," I said, staring at my little brother in disbelief.

"I don't," Sam said, "but there's something here, and I want to know what it is. Maybe we can beat it before Dad even finds it." He shrugged, as if it wasn't that big a deal, but I knew why he'd said that. He knew it would get to me, that I would want to go and prove to Dad that I was ready to hunt.

My brother knew me too well.


End file.
